


Proposal

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Afterwards [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 22:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20881967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: You can figure it out from the title.





	Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to Memories and Hopes, found here  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519792/chapters/48700562

He groaned, stretching, feeling his joints pop as he rolled over, out of bed completely. He landed on the ground with a muffled thump, cursing as he reached up and fumbled around on the bedside table, finding his glasses and pushing them on. He stumbled to his feet, grabbing his dark jacket off the corner of the table, sliding it on. He wasn’t planning on actually going anywhere, but he was nearly always cold, at least just a little bit.  
He slunk out of the room with his usual loping swagger, after taking a moment to rub his face and tidy his hair, so he didn’t look like a walking mess, as well as wake up a bit. He was not a morning person. He paused in the doorway to the bookshop proper, leaning carelessly against the doorframe, peering over the rim of his glasses.  
Aziraphale sat at his desk, delicately paging through an old looking leather bound book. A forgotten cup of coco sat beside him on a coaster, and soft music played from somewhere deeper in the shop. It was such an ordinary scene, yet his heart jumped, because it was still a miracle that they were both just here.  
Aziraphale was humming along, absently tapping out the beat against his desk, reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Crowley shifted his weight, and Aziraphale glanced back at the small sound, eyes lighting up with delight that made Crowley catch his breath.  
“Crowley! I thought I heard you waking up, I was wondering when you’d be up and about.” Crowley stretched his arms above his head, sauntering lazily over.  
“How long was I out?” He asked, perching on the corner of Aziraphale’s desk.  
“A week, about? I thought about waking you, but I know you hadn’t been sleeping well before that, and you do like your sleep. I did pop in to check on you, sleep myself a few times.” Aziraphale blushed slightly, but Crowley had the grace to pretend not to notice.  
“Week eh? Not bad. Doesn’t feel like a week.” He replied, yawning.  
“Well, you can literally sleep for a century, I imagine a week is nothing to you.” Aziraphale teased. Crowley rolled his eyes.  
“Honestly, would you take those ridiculous things off?” The angel gestured at Crowley’s glasses, closing his book and setting it aside. The demon stilled in that almost imperceptible way he had, and Aziraphale realized he’d touched upon some invisible line of Crowley’s, some hidden insecurity he’d taken great care to keep hidden.  
He smiled, reaching up slowly and lifting the dark lenses from Crowley’s face, folding the arms carefully and setting them on the desk, before placing his own in their case. He opened his mouth to say something, cut off by Crowley, whom had lifted his nose up in the air, sniffing.  
“What is that smell?” He asked, pushing himself off the corner of the desk.  
“Would you listen for just one sec- what on Earth are you doing?” Aziraphale paused in his scolding, watching Crowley with amusement.  
He was wandering around in small circles, slowly widening outwards. Every few seconds he stuck out his tongue, wiggling it about before closing his mouth and smacking his lips with an expression of confusion and mild distaste.  
He looked utterly hilarious, and Aziraphale couldn’t repress his laughter as he trailed after the demon.  
“Sssnake thing… damn human senses… not sensitive enough when you need them… where is that coming from… oh…” He trailed off as he passed the final bookshelves to the front of the store.  
The table they usually drank at was covered in a white cloth, two wine glasses and a bottle sitting opposite a lit candle stick. But it was what was above that caught his attention.  
Lights were floating above, around the room, like tiny fireflies, sparkling in golds and silvers, shining like… like stars. Looking closer, he realized the twinkling lights formed constellations, whirls of galaxies… all of the ones he’d made. He stared up in awe, barely noticing the ferns and flowers that covered the front of the room, bouquets of purples and blues arranged in swirling, cosmic patterns. That had been the smell, all these beautiful plants.  
He spun slowly, staring wide eyed, naming off the stars and constellations in his head, remembering the soft heat of the stars in his hands, breathing life into cold, empty space.  
“Ohhh Ziri…” He breathed out, turning to the angel, who stood a few steps away, hands clasped in front of him. His face was flushed and he smiled nervously, stepping forwards and taking Crowley’s hands in his.  
“I was hoping you’d like it. It’s not, oh, it’s not too much, is it?” He asked, blushing deeper.  
“How’d you know? Which stars, I mean, there’s billions and billions…”  
“Ah, did I get them all right then? That was a bit of an educated guess. I was fairly sure I could identify your artistic style, based off your drawings and such. I do have a good eye for that sort of thing.” Crowley shook his head in disbelief, a splitting grin spreading across his face.  
“You magnificent bastard. What did I ever do to deserve you?” Crowley let out a choked laugh, overwhelmed by the pure love, the pure adoration radiating off Aziraphale, shown in this display of stars.  
He was doing it on purpose, Crowley knew. So there could be no creeping doubt, no question, as to what Aziraphale felt towards him. Because even still, even now, Crowley had moments of disbelief, where he couldn’t bring himself to believe this was all real. That Aziraphale loved him back. Aziraphale cleared his throat.  
“You know, I never understood those glasses, anyway.” Aziraphale said, catching Crowley’s attention instantly. “I always found your eyes to be quite stunning.” Crowley swallowed hard, looking away.  
“I thought… they might make you uncomfortable. Remind you what I was… that we work for different sides.” Internally Aziraphale cursed.  
Of course, he wore the glasses because of him, there wasn’t a single thing Crowley did without first thinking of Aziraphale’s reaction. And he had given Crowley plenty of examples to dwell on, shown him again and again just how much it bothered him, what Crowley was. Of course, he hid his eyes because of some careless remark of his own. Well, that, at least, he could fix.  
“Crowley,” he turned the demon’s face to his, looking him in the eyes, examining every facet of them, getting lost in their soft golden glow. “You never have to hide yourself from me. Never. You’re perfect, my dear. Absolutely, wonderfully, perfect.” He saw the slow release of tension from Crowley’s shoulders, the slow blink of his eyes as he weighed Aziraphale’s declaration, the small smile that returned to his face.  
“Angel, you’re too kind.” He whispered, placing his hands on Aziraphale’s waist, pulling him close.  
“You’re not kind enough, to yourself, at least.” Aziraphale replied, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s neck, smiling radiantly up at him, kissing his cheek.  
“I’m… trying Angel.” Crowley answered, resting his forehead against Aziraphale’s, reveling in the closeness of him, the soft, pure love and acceptance he constantly radiated, that made him feel safe, the only place he ever felt safe was Aziraphale.  
“I do, ah… I didn’t just set this up for… ah, well… there is a reason, for all this.” Crowley tilted his head back, eyebrow raised, amusement playing across his face.  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite this flustered, angel.” Aziraphale let out a nervous chuckle, taking a deep breath and stepping back, hands fluttering nervously.  
“I have something rather important to ask you…” He blurted out, flushing red.  
“Anything, Ziri, you know that.” Crowley answered, eyes guarded now, stance stiff. It was that look that gave Aziraphale the necessary burst of courage, the necessary nerve. He couldn’t stand that ready for the worst look, ready to be rejected look, he realized that’s what it was now, and he’d seen it a thousand times before.  
In the bandstand, when Crowley asked him to run away among the galaxies and he’d said no, said they weren’t even friends, that he didn’t even like him.  
Outside the bookshop when he’d said he forgave Crowley, and still didn’t go with him.  
When they were both in foggy, damp feudal Britain, and Crowley first proposed The Arrangement, and he shot him down.  
When they were at Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and He’d said he didn’t know Crowley, weren’t friends, didn’t know each other.  
He couldn’t stand it a second longer. Not when this question would dispel all his doubts, ease all his fears away, would make sure he never doubted his love for a second ever again.  
He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a small box, dropping to one knee, said box held up in supplication.  
“Angel what- “  
“Will you marry me?” There was a terrifying moment of silence where time seemed to stand still, when all the air rushed out of the room and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t look at Crowley, was irrationally sure Crowley would laugh, turn away, walk out.  
Then there was a burst of wind, and he fell back against the floor at the force of the embrace, soft wings enfolding him, stardust dancing all around. He realized it was Crowley’s sparkling aura, shining so fiercely it was almost tangible. And the demon was crying, from happiness, for once, holding him tight.  
“Yes, yes, god yes, Aziraphale, of course, love, of course yes.” He whispered, laughing, over and over, until their mouths met and their words fled.  
“Crowley, I didn’t even give you your ring yet.” Aziraphale laughed, pulling back for breath after a long moment, looking into Crowley’s flushed, joyful face.  
They were both on their knees, Crowley’s wings surrounding them, light from the stars shining down upon them, Crowley’s aura dancing through constellations. Aziraphale realized his own wings had stretched out behind him, unable to be suppressed through his upwelling of emotion.  
Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand, carefully sliding on a simple, shimmering iridescent white ring. It looked like a pair of dove’s wings, wrapping around his finger, a perfect match to Aziraphale’s, a small pearl set in the middle.  
“Now you have to give me mine.” Crowley’s breath caught as he gently plucked the other ring out of the box, examining it for a moment. It was dark obsidian that shimmered in the light, shaped like a coiling serpent. Inlaid where head met tail was a fiery red opal, reminiscent of an apple.  
“Oh Zir…” Crowley looked back at the angel, breathless, never taking his eyes off Aziraphale’s as he took his hand, sliding the ring onto his finger, letting himself be swept away in their light. They sat like that for a long moment, pulsing with joy. Then Crowley grinned as he stood, extending a hand to help pull the angel up, snapping his finger and changing the music to a lively waltz.  
He swept Aziraphale off his feet and into the air, into a dance among the stars, spinning and touching and laughing until they were dizzy and drunk on joy, until they collapsed to the floor in a heap of feathers and laughter, until dawn poked rosy fingers in through the windows and they lost themselves in memories of their thousands of years together. Until they finally pulled their giggling selves together enough to stumble to bed, happier than they’d ever been, in this Eden they’d made for themselves, together.  
And somewhere, high above, God paused. She turned her gaze to a certain bookshop in Soho, one that kept irregular and impossible hours and sold only the few books needed to still be classified as a bookshop. Where an angel and a demon made their own joy, created their own side, broke all the rules, and smiled. In Her opinion, some rules were made to be broken, and some things, after all, were ineffable.


End file.
